


Fall is here, Ring the bell

by Zigster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Autumn, M/M, Mystery, Witchcraft, ambiguous time period, forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:06:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigster/pseuds/Zigster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NO idea what this is or where it came from. All I know is that I wanted to write with fall as a backdrop and this came out. It doesn't seem appropriate for a 'drabble' since in order for this to have any resolution I'd need a good few K to give one to you. My plan is to have Stiles and Derek linked by a witch as school children . . . from there I don't know what. It's a mystery. </p><p>If you want more, tell me. I might get up the courage to write. </p><p>p.s. this is unbeta'd.</p></blockquote>





	Fall is here, Ring the bell

Leaves crunch and twigs snap beneath Stiles' bare feet as he runs through the wood to the old, brick mansion-turned-school on the edge of town. Socks and shoes are held tight in his hands as he sprints, wishing as hard as he can that he'll be at his desk on time. Professor Brandon never tolerates tardiness. 

A branch scratches past Stiles' face, slicing just deep enough to leave a shock of pink on his cheek, and he bursts forward with a renewed sense of urgency. If the fear of disappointing his teacher compels him to run, the horror of the wicked birch stick the professor wields as punishment propels him with inhuman speed towards the school house. 

The Bell rings once. Stiles reaches the edge of the wood and drops his shoes to the ground. 

Twice. He trips and stumbles as he ties haphazard laces with too long, boney fingers. 

Thrice. Stiles curses, and reaches for the brass handle of the black, oak door. One more bell and he'd be nursing lashings on his wrists for a week. 

The fourth bell dings its hallowed tune and Stiles shoots into his chair, cheek red and books askew in his pack, shirt untucked and hair a flying mess of curls on his head. He gulps in air and smiles up at the tall man in front, his back to the class; he isn't late. 

"Mr. Stilinski." 

The voice is not kind. Stiles sits straighter in his chair. 

"Yes?" 

"Were you not supposed to escort our new student to class, today?" 

The world falls out from beneath Stiles' sore feet. He's forgotten in his haste to stop by the Hale's house and guide their boy to the school with him. His father had only told him the night before last, but Stiles had been excited for the task. He was always eager to meet new people, there were so very few of them in Beacon Hills. 

His head falls into his hands, and he curses inwardly at his thoughtlessness. His father will be so disappointed in him. 

"Well, don't sit there wallowing in your own misery, boy. Go! Go get the Hale child and bring him here so that he can reap the benefits of my profound tutelage." 

Springing from his chair as if possessed, Stiles runs from the school house amidst the laughter and giggles of the other students around him. Flying through the doors and down the dirt path, back towards the wood and the old Foster house that the newly emigrated Hales have taken over as their own. 

The wind lashes at his face with a chill that hadn't been present not ten minutes before, and Stiles wraps his arms around his chest as he runs, attempting feebly at shielding himself from the morning cold. It is not yet time for the first frost, but Stiles can smell it coming, like every child who has been raised with sage hanging on the hearth and rosemary planted in the garden can. 

A crow caws high above the red and orange trees and Stiles looks towards the sound at the wrong second. His foot slips and catches something twisted while a cloak unfolds on top of him. A quick hit to the head leaves him in a void of blackness more dense than the velvet draped over him and he falls into unconsciousness. 

Silence echoes out through the wood from where Stiles lies. No bird dares to call, no deer stirs, nor squirrel scratch, only silence as the boy sleeps hidden and still beneath the trees. 

TBC

**Author's Note:**

> NO idea what this is or where it came from. All I know is that I wanted to write with fall as a backdrop and this came out. It doesn't seem appropriate for a 'drabble' since in order for this to have any resolution I'd need a good few K to give one to you. My plan is to have Stiles and Derek linked by a witch as school children . . . from there I don't know what. It's a mystery. 
> 
> If you want more, tell me. I might get up the courage to write. 
> 
> p.s. this is unbeta'd.


End file.
